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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24923299">Mango Sorbet</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/rabiosareads/pseuds/rabiosareads'>rabiosareads</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>40s bucky is my absolute achilles' heel, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Light Angst, Slow Sex, Smut</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 01:20:01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>8,472</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24923299</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/rabiosareads/pseuds/rabiosareads</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>His words rattled in his chest like butterflies in a cage, its wings flapping around to seek out its freedom. She heard them too and sought them out, to listen to their pleas, only to find herself locked in the same cage and wallow in the same reality:</p><p>He may never come back.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>James "Bucky" Barnes &amp; Reader, James "Bucky" Barnes/Original Female Character(s), James "Bucky" Barnes/Reader</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>39</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Mango Sorbet</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Inspired by I'll Be Seeing You by Billie Holiday.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Springtime in Brooklyn was always a sight to see. Doors were open across the neighborhood, tangles of cords and radios on the porch, hand fans creating waves of cotton white across each way. Children squealed past fruit stands, skin sticky with dripping lollipops and Vaseline, dodging each other in their street games. Springtime was even in the smell, a heavy sweet like chocolate yet free flowing like clean laundry. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>That’s until the nighttime fell, where the blues and greys and purples would come out to dance across the canvas. The nighttime served as a perfect distraction for many. Away from the terrors of war, the sleepless nights that mothers were growing accustomed to, away from the trembling hands of young men that felt the need to prove something but have yet to taste life, the same life that was hidden in vanilla ice cream cones and sweet corn in the local fairs. It was then found in temporary bouts of happiness, in the arms of some beautifully ivory skinned entertainer that hid her sympathies behind cherry lips and citrus perfume or in the slurred words and stretched smiles of their friends, drunk enough to live in the moment but not enough to forget they were leaving in a few hours to a warzone they may never come back from. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>That’s where she found herself. Stuck in between the luxury of staying in the comfort of Brooklyn and her heart in that battlefield, squishing in soggy mud, steps so careful and delicate to not set off any landmines. The thunderstorm in her lungs kept her face damp at night, waiting for that quick crack of lightning to strike her skin and char a hole in her sternum. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When she got the call, however, the storm didn’t allow her to board up her words with wood planks. It didn’t allow her to swallow the dew back, to at least provide some kind of resolution to digest his words. His pride cracked his words, quipping at the edge like a child that finally rode his bike without training wheels, expecting the same response back.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I got drafted, doll, I’m going first thing tomorrow morning!”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>She watched the blood escape her clutch, fingertips stark white against her terracotta skin. He kept going on and on, talking about Steve, talking about what he could bring with him, who he could talk to while he was gone, all while she came undone from the loose seams that held her together this long. Words pooled in her mouth and spun her mind like a wheel, never ending and cruel in its rapid whips, but she swallowed them back with such a weak smile that was wet with salty tears and orange lipstick. She stared at her linoleum floor, watching the shine groove along each edge of the squares, lost in its warped reflection of her kitten heels. What could she say that would hinder the bitter coil that dared to snap in her frame, to grasp his ankles in a desperate one man effort to keep the man grounded? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She didn’t meet him and became his to do such a thing. He was never to stay still. He was never meant for that. He was the crashing and unsettling wave, the pure crack of lightning that harbored in her chest. He was the storm inside her, crazed and uncontrolled, and yet he was the sweet smell of earth that came afterwards, the sea spray that kissed her chest and neck every time she dug her toes in the sand. And here he was, an enigma of sorts, turning her slice of heaven into a doorway to hell.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Let me take you out tonight. We can go dancing.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>She slipped one more bobby pin in her raven black corkscrews. She had every right to sneer at the man, to take her bubblegum pink receiver and slam it on the counter from the audacity that he could ignore that festering departure by sweeping her off her feet once more in one last whirlwind of a date. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Remember, </span>
  </em>
  <span>she told herself, swiping one last coat of blue red lipstick across her cupid’s bow. </span>
  <em>
    <span>This is for him. This is for him. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>It’s always for him, isn’t it?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>She took one last look at herself, sighing in between slightly parted lips. She reminded herself to poke her manicured finger in his chest to boast about the fact that he was lucky she had enough to treat herself to another dress, just for tonight. He didn’t deserve her best, he deserved her baby blue gingham dress that still had that stubborn paint stain at the hem from their second date. Yeah, that’ll show him. She isn’t some kind of dressed up doll that he could twirl around his finger. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But what good would that do? His lips would graze the shell of her ear, a space where her knees would falter, sighed a laugh and slipped a strong hand on the small of her back with a half hearted apology. “You could wear rags and you’d still be the prettiest star.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Yeah.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>His pretty star.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>She dabbed one more spritz of perfume on her wrists, his favorite that he gifted from Macy’s. She giggled at the time when his cheeks flushed the same baby pink as his lips at his story with the perfume counter associate, who was lost in his attempt to describe the scent to her.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I told her it was like a tropical vacation. She looks at me and goes, come on, I need better than that-- don’t laugh at me!-- and I told her like mango. Something mango.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Mango, Bucky?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Yeah, like those exotic fruits you like. You smell like what Hawaii would probably smell like. So she found me this and even wrapped it up real nice for me.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Even then, with the delicate scents of creme of coconut, mango and pear, it couldn’t mask the dusky rain that threatened her eyes. Once again it caught in her throat, his steel blue eyes swirling with mysterious grey and a tinge of gentleness in the forefront of her mind, clutching onto the slippery feeling of his impending doom. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her dress was royal blue, bordering along an inky hue, with a chiffon layer that held speckles of golden blinks of metallic sheen. She considered changing it last minute, adjusting her chiffon sleeves up her shoulders a bit. It was always something between the two of them when they were out together. They stared at him as if he was committing social suicide to be out with her a girl like her and she should be in church praising God for giving a man like him to her. He never noticed, or at least he was good about ignoring it, how when they would go to their swing parties or dinner dates that they would harbor respect for him and animosity for it. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Don’t hide behind that coat all night, hun, I like the way the light shines down on you.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>She pulled the sleeves down just a bit, clasped down her gold earrings a bit tighter and slipped one lily behind her ear. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I read once that in China, they use lilies in weddings to signify one hundred years of love.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Ahh okay bookworm, what are you trying to say?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“What do you mean!”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Isn’t it a bit odd for a woman to be proposing to her man?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I’m a progressive woman, James, time to get out if that’s not your thing.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>A knock at the door startled her, pinching the false petal. She looked at herself one more time, nodding in confidence. “Coming!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She stopped at the door and flexed her fist. She had to blink away any premature mourning and reset her mind to allow new room for him. She slowly opened the door as if whatever was behind it would snatch her guts open.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And it did.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> She fell foolishly in love once more, just like the first time she saw him, instead this time it was much more intense and much more tangible. His presence clawed at her belly to open up, to live in her reignited infatuation. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was handsome under any light, that was an obvious truth. He looked up at her with that same saccharine smile, wrinkling his eyes and nose, his baby blues contrasting from the camel brown uniform. Cheeks as pink as a cherub and crooked smile that hooked her in the cheek like a fish to a line to mimic his. Instead this time there was a shift in his aura. The shift was in the way he pulled back his shoulders, firm and masculine, down to the curve of his waist and parted legs. He was basking in the moonlight in a way that insinuated that whoever was in the sky beamed him down just for her. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>It’s true what they say, there’s something about a man in uniform.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>There was something else in his eyes, something that held the same glaze as hers: longingly on the surface, a yearning that can only be tasted on hasty mouths and heated tongues, and a stab of despondence that she was sure would come up somewhere in between that moment and long after he left.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey hun,” he whispered, his voice cracked with a husky breath. “You look great on such short notice.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her hand was still on the door with the same vice grip as from the phone call. The quiet rush of humidity hit her skin and lingered on, creating a film across her heaving chest. He pulled back, eyebrow quipped in playful curiosity, pursing his lips up. He posed with his arms open, leg pulled to the front, flicking his hat up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Gotta say, this uniform makes me look </span>
  <em>
    <span>pretty handsome</span>
  </em>
  <span>, huh?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She had noticed he held a bouquet of flowers in one hand and a small box in the other. The bouquet was one of her favorites, lavender lilies and Baby’s Breath, wrapped in cloudy white paper. The scent traveled with his movement, bringing it back to his chest. He tucked his chin above the bouquet. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I figure I get you your favorites on my way here.” he shrugged.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They’re…” her first words of the evening were heavy with content, surprisingly. “So beautiful. That’s why they’re my favorites.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know,” he smiled at first but then faltered at her glazed stare and murmurs. “Doll, you feeling okay?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She snapped her head up and focused her vision on the sharp cool metal on the front of his hat. “Why are you leaving, Buck?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He stuttered back, pulling down the bouquet. It was the last thing he’d expect her to say yet that’s not what surprised him the most. It was the way her chin trembled, collarbones shaking beneath her prickled skin, traveling up to her inky tresses that snuck into her tucked lilies. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He knew she was going to react this way. That she would be utterly broken at the news. He had made the mistake of joking about it around Steve, who was so driven by the thought that it left a pang of sugary admiration in his teeth, but then that joke morphed into the truth. And just like any truth that weighed as much as this, a growing lump sum, they had to take turns carrying the possibility on each other’s back until that moment he rapped at her door. So he allowed her to gulp away the unsteady waves of it all, only because he was too, offering his anchor in the form of frowning brows and bitten lip.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Where is this coming from?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wrong question.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s coming from the fact that you decided to tell me hours before you’re drafted.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know. I know. And I’m sorry. If there was…” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>What, a consolation prize? This was the endgame, this was all he could offer. Why insinuate that there was something more to offer? He had split his bread with everyone, including Steve who still lingered the streets wondering when it was his turn to revel in the honor, all he had to offer the love of his life was mere crumbs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why are you leaving </span>
  <em>
    <span>me</span>
  </em>
  <span>?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As if the question the second time wouldn’t lessen the blow. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As if the third time could stir a different outcome. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not…” he exasperated, leaning into her. She took a step back, afraid of his truth, letting go of the knob. “I’m not leaving </span>
  <em>
    <span>you. </span>
  </em>
  <span>I’m leavin the States but I’m never leaving you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was a still silence between the two, dangling on a string that hung on the doorframe. He clutched the bouquet a bit tighter and she noticed from the sound of crumbled paper. Internally she scoffed at his attempt at comfort. Sugared words can only get him so far in this instance, however it was the way his eyes expanded in its pitiful attempt to apologize that faltered her shoulders. She pitied the man.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know.” (she had no clue.)</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I love the flowers,” she reiterated, taking it from his tight grip. “Part of me wishes they were fake so I can keep them forever.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know.” he smirked (but he had no clue.)</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Buck listen--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah?” he breathed, reaching out for her. He took her hand, small and delicate, into his own, giving it a soft squeeze. They were icy and clammy in comparison to his, soft and furanced. She placed the bouquet down on the corner table, along with the vases of the other dying ones.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I… I want tonight to be good, okay? Just the two of us. Just for a while.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He nodded, tilting his head back. “Of course, doll. It’s just us.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His tone was still on the edge of his faulty apology, hidden behind the goofy grin that was usually accompanied by a not so tasteful joke or flowery compliment that made her groan more than blush. She sized him up, matching his goofy grin, letting go of his grip to fold her arms underneath her breasts.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You </span>
  <em>
    <span>do </span>
  </em>
  <span>look handsome with that uniform on.” she declared, leaning on the doorframe. He laughed and rolled his eyes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I told you. You should count your lucky stars you’re going out with a guy like me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She scoffed and grabbed her pearl clutch, tucking it underneath her arm. “You should stop talking before you’re drafted as a single man!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He clutched his chest in false hurt, toggling the doorknob after she closed and locked it. “You wouldn’t do that to me, you can’t be that cruel!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m a smart girl James, I’m capable of anything,” she chuckled and looked down at his other hand. “What’s in the box?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He peeked down at it before slipping it in his pocket. “That’s for later on. Don’t worry about it, come on, I’m dying for a good party!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay eager beaver, I’ll wait!” She looped her arm around his and pulled him closer. She looked back at her door, chipped and scratched with cheap black paint, then up to her window. The light was still on, marigold and warm, the last indication that was the warmest sliver she would feel all evening.</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>Life was dull and grey before Bucky Barnes came around. To put it in context her world was that of a clinging parasite, eating its way through certain reminders of her loneliness. A loneliness that grew in large rooms or in the arms of loved ones; the kind of loneliness that left her out in the outskirts while her shell of a body mingled with others. Her mouth moved by itself, scathing hot with attitude, hands waving away any protests and declarations of what she deemed as false.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you have someone that claims you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Get this clear fat head, nobody claims me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Listen here hun, if you ever need a dance partner--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ve seen the way you dance and I’m definitely not interested. I’d rather dance with my own two left feet, thank you very much.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She was quick like a whip, so quick that men had to step away and wallow in the burning snap so they could muster a retort. By the time they did they were met with her back, curls cascading, hypnotized with her triumphant swing of her hips. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And no doubt her friends thought she had finally lost it because they were </span>
  <em>
    <span>handsome</span>
  </em>
  <span>, the kind of handsome you’d want your mother to frame over the fireplace and your girl friends to talk about around the diner tables, but none of them were right enough. None of them worth the infinite amount of time she had in her clutch, none of them worth the expense. Not until he walked into the door.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was childish and cruel and quick. She had caught a glimpse of him, an apparition that toggled with her vision, and shamefully made her do a double take. Her friends raised their thin brows at her new behavior. Out of all the men that had walked in those doors, tall drinks of water and competitors of Adonis, she had never given any reconsideration until him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She tasted her heart in her throat and for once was at a loss of words.  His crisp cotton white shirt was tucked in behind suspenders and it clung to his firm form, long legs dancing along the sticky floor to graze through crowds. He pushed back a loose strand and laughed in rays of superbeams, her own mouth twitching to mimic that same light</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He hadn’t noticed at first, too caught up in a conversation with his petite friend, stuffing his large hands in his pockets to lean into him. It wasn’t until he looked straight to her-- no, </span>
  <em>
    <span>through </span>
  </em>
  <span>her-- that she considered herself, for a lack of a better word, fucked. He didn’t blink, didn’t even hesitate to break it, nor did he remember to kick his breathing back into his chest. He wanted to grant her that same smirk that he knew would weaken her knees but couldn’t bring himself to do so. It was that gravitational pull between their shaking rib cages that kept him grounded, an invisible supernova that had transpired in their silent greeting.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He had that similar realization as she did in that moment; absolutely no Dolores, no Nancy, no Betty and not even that red hot Etta he had in his arms just last week could compare to the manifested seraph of terracotta clay, thick lashes and round orange red lips. He felt bad at first that his best friend kept going on about how uncomfortable he was, being he couldn’t see well and the cigar smoke was going to trigger an asthma attack, but he would understand, wouldn’t he? Steve Rogers would definitely understand if he saw a star like her. Right? He considered it; did he notice the floating spectre that grace itself across the floor, towards him, in a chartreuse swing dress?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wait. Towards him. Oh, towards </span>
  <em>
    <span>him. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Her legs danced through crowds like wind through trees, his eyes following every raised hand and whispered formalities. Maybe it was fate playing cupid or maybe it was her heart that said enough was enough and decided to navigate the ship this time around. The anchor was in the way he curved his mouth to form a hello, the way his eyes would travel her body, blinking like snapshots, drinking her in behind hazy ocean eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He kept apologizing throughout the night for staring and it deepened the flush on her chest and cheeks, creeping its heat in her thick dress. He couldn’t help it, he said, it probably freaked her out, he figured. You don’t have to talk to a guy like me, he secretly pleaded, but I’d be honored if you felt pity for me and kept going. At one point she theorized he was on something, maybe one too many thick ales. He had to be if he was sweet talking to her that much, ignoring the way she squirmed when he would prolong his gaze for too long or lurched forward to keen into her subtle touch.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Months later, around the same time they found themselves in the middle of a grandiose going away party, he had stumbled upon the realization he was in this for the long haul when she watched the fireworks with a quiet content, almond eyes capturing the colorful sparks. She rested her temple on his shoulder until he dipped her underneath with his arm, cupping the groove of her hip, leaning in to lick her spoon.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mango sorbet is my favorite,” she whispered, scooping more. “Not a lot of people get it because it isn’t that popular but that’s lucky for me. Means I get it all to myself.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bucky wanted to say something else, something along the lines of </span>
  <em>
    <span>is that all you’re getting to yourself? </span>
  </em>
  <span>Or </span>
  <em>
    <span>You know what else you can get? </span>
  </em>
  <span>But just like that evening, the one that hitched his throat with phantom smoke, he didn’t want to waste with empty words. She tasted like that sorbet, tangy and syrupy, along with the smokiness of the fireworks. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Moments like that made a moment like the night they found themselves harder to cope with.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She leaned against the punch bowl table, sipping from the cup slowly. She watched him talk with great animation with some acquaintances he met during the enlistment event, caught up in their jokes and hard patting. She patted down her slight damped curls and tucked them behind her ear. The band had calmed down to a steady jazz solo, ideal for the scheduled cocktail hour, while the lights dimmed down to only focus its brightest rays in the middle of the dancefloor. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Red, white and blue ribbons decorated the ceiling and stage of the auditorium, the middle of the way parted between shy women and eager military men. Occasionally some couples would break the social cue to waltz to the band’s soft groove, too caught up in each other to socialize. A slender woman stood next to her, strawberry blonde hair tucked away in a tight ponytail, smirking beneath her champagne glass.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s yours?” she whispered, nodding her head towards the group. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She blushed and nodded back, still watching his hands twirl and dance. “He is.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s a looker, like my Dean,” she complimented. She pointed her glass to a taller man with stark blonde hair and pink skin, too eager to control his boisterous laugh at Bucky’s story. “They’re making us proud.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Sure. Something like that.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>The blonde wanted to say something else until her betrothed grabbed her by the waist, rubbing his cheek into her long neck. She waved goodbye and settled the glass on the table next to her, wrapping her arms around his neck to slowly work their way to the middle of the floor. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She swallowed back a nerve and looked down at the floor, noticing her royal blue heels were scoffed around the toes. She brought them towards her to disappear underneath the folded loop of her dress, stopping when she saw a pair of polished loafers. She slowly looked up at Bucky’s dipped head, his hat now resting on his chest. His hair was slicked back and her fingertips twitched to run through them one last time, to take a healthy tug at the roots to pull him closer to her shaking frame. He leaned in to rest his lips on the shell of her ear, the hat in between their chests, his free hand working its way to rest on the small buttons that rest on the curve of her spine.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think I owe my lady one more dance before we blow this,” his voice was smoky and lingered a distant tang of whiskey. “I requested your favorite song.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh?” she quipped, batting her eyes innocently. He watched them curl up to her brow bone then back down, casting a shadow over her onyx eyes. “You remembered the one?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He scoffed at her question playfully, licking his lips. “You sing that record almost every time I’m over, it’s ingrained in my memory. C’mon.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Of course she did. Only because </span>
  <em>
    <span>he </span>
  </em>
  <span>remembered it, too. Her face lit up with a radiant glow when it played on the radio, scarf wrapped around her hair and greased shirt, grabbing him with dusty hands to rock her body with his. When he stood stiff she would grab his waist to match her rhythm. “Billie Holiday would want you to like this song with me, Buck.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He slipped his hat back on to guide her backwards towards the dancefloor, nodding his head to the beat. She let him pull her, skipping her heels across the floor, only to be twirled and held against his chest. He was strong yet soft, warm yet shivering, enveloped by their own environment they created within those few seconds from the table to the dance floor.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her eyes were closed while she held a tranquil smile. His arms anchored her waist and his hands ran up and down her ribcage, tucking her closer underneath his chin. He spun her around in a circle and she giggled, slipping her arms around his neck. He picked up a strand of her hair in between his fingers and coiled it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you… are you wearing my favorite perfume?” he commented with a deep inhale.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s my favorite now. Figured I’d give you that as my parting gift.” she shrugged, running her fingers across the nape of his neck. He suppressed a shiver.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s all you’re giving me tonight, doll? That’s hardly fair.” his voice dropped lower than a whisper and deeper than its usual bass. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Depends on how well you behave tonight, Private Barnes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That earned a groan that rattled his Adam’s apple. “Oh, Private Barnes. You make it sound so sweet.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t get too excited, Bucky, we’re around people.” She laid her forehead on his and kissed his cupid’s bow. He tightened his grip on her in warning. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We could leave, you know. Give me something to look forward to when I come back.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She widened her eyes and ran her tongue on top of her teeth. “Not until the song’s over.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She honed in on the singer’s voice who closely resembled Billie’s. She secretly complimented his choice and timing of it. He may act like a testosterone filled teenager with eager hands and hasty lips but he knew how to make a moment special. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her silence weighed more than the meaning of the dance. In her silence she was able to lose herself in the sadness that she assumed she left at the door, however it was clear that it  made a new home in the grooves of her ribs. It made the taste in her mouth travel the back of her throat, dragging the gravel to the balls of her feet. She wanted to sink into the oak floor, past the cement, past the dirt and soot and roots of the earth, anything to stay firm in this moment in his arms and not in the knowledge of what’s to happen.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was in a similar state, hiding behind his flirtatious candor and bashful eyes. His words rattled in his chest like butterflies in a cage, its wings flapping around to seek out its freedom. She heard them too and sought them out, to listen to their pleas, only to find herself locked in the same cage and wallow in the same reality:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He may never come back. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She hadn’t noticed her grip around his neck pulled him closer, to have his mouth ingrained in the roots of her hair. She shook and rattled through a violent shiver and he said nothing, merely anchoring her against his body. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Not yet. Not until the song’s over.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Balloons fell around them, bouncing on their bodies. There was nothing and everything in that quiet dance.</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>“Wait, h-hold on.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>What a way to ruin the moment. Bucky should’ve fixed the consistent jamming of his door knob but it slipped his mind months ago. He tucked her to the side and rocked the door with his shoulder to loosen the jam and turned the knob again. He breathed out a laugh when it swung open and slammed to the other side. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He quipped a brow at her state, licking his lips to taste her lipstick. Her cheeks were flushed and a bobby pin was sticking out from the side, faded lipstick tugging at the corner of puckered lips. She groaned at his mocking stare. “Hurry up.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes ma’am,” he murmured and pulled her closer, shutting the door with a kick.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her hands found purchase at the nape of his neck, taking its time to trail upwards where his slicked back ends laid, digging her thumbs into the dip of his skull. His lips, frenzied and desperate, pressed against a vein on her neck, dragging his tongue to her earlobe to bite playfully. She giggled from the sensation and pulled him up with a tug at his scalp. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His mouth was opened and searching against hers in a hot frantic attempt to taste her. Teeth clinked against each other and bit each other’s lips, pulled back with rawness and his hands pulled up from her ribs to the curve of her breasts. He registered her long groan at his slow grasp, pulling his hands further up and around to find the first button.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why did you have to wear the most difficult dress on the planet, doll?” he gritted, shaking fingers looping around the clothed button.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It was for you…the most difficult man on the planet...” She managed to drag out in between his teeth. Her mewl triggered a bubbling response in his stomach of arousal, leaking down to his bucking hips. His knuckles scraped against the door and with the help of her shaking hands he pulled her dress down to her ankles.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She clenched her thighs at the sight in front of her; Bucky was on his knees, hands wrapped around her thighs and nails dragging lightly against her skin. He looked at her, messy hair and swollen lips, watching the way her head shift to the side to allow the moonlight to bleed down her bare chest and curved stomach.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Bucky what about the door?” she whispered harshly, hissing when he kissed her knee.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What,” he lifted her leg to place over his shoulder. “About,” he kissed her behind her knee, dragging his tongue up to rest his head against her thigh. “The,” he looped his finger around her peach panties. “Door?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She adjusted her weight on one leg and a hand on top of his head, gently adding pressure from the sensation of his scorching mouth on her sweltering skin. The humidity of the night bonded to their skin, so dangerously close and balmy, collecting in their folded limbs and lost words.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He looked up at her in pure worship, her hand shaking close to her mouth to bite down on her thumb to lessen the volume of her pants. He shook his head and nodded down. “Get that hand away from your mouth. I wanna hear you tonight.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He pulled down her panties and went dizzy at the sight of her arousal in the middle of them, darkening the silk material. He kissed the dip of her hip, trailing his hands up to hold her in place, lips gentle like petals to her navel, pelvis and then her mound. Along the way she hissed and panted, already saturated in the moonlight and careful steps that he took to build her up. He guided her to lift her hips up just a bit, to open her thighs just an inch apart, just a bit more to gather the flushing embarrassment she felt burning on her chest from the sensation of her thighs sticking together. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A tremor shook her body as soon as he flattened his tongue on her slit to take a languid drag, cupping his mouth around her clit immediately. Part of him wanted to rip her climax with greedy intent and the other half wanted to live in it, to relish in her heat for as long as she would allow him to. He went back to her core and lapped upwards, his grip tighter to greedily grind her on his mouth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her eyes rolled back from the gearing movement. She sought out pressure on her throbbing clint, taking control of her bucking hips. He closed his eyes and kept lapping upwards until he reached her clit once more, suckling on the bundle of nerves. She gasped harshly, grateful that he read her mind, taking that pressure off his scalp to trail both hands through his hair. She tugged upwards so he could tilt her chin and further encompass her sweet spot.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She dragged down her body and laid her head back on the door frame. Her eyes watered at his pace, painfully slow and appreciative, then clutching them tight when he moaned into her. She hooked her leg around him, ankle to neck, avoiding her gaze to travel downwards. She didn’t want to go over the edge just yet, but he was always a sight to behold when he had her undone. He always ate her like he was deprived of any sustenance in his entire life. And that was the thing, he was like this </span>
  <em>
    <span>every single time</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Frantic pants signaled her approach, as well as her hips rolling against his mouth and nose. She parted her other leg just a bit more to feel her heat drip down the back of her thigh. He knew her body like he knew his, down to each raised hair and clutched joint, so when her hips were frantic against his face he pulled back. His swollen lips and nose shined from her arousal, letting hungry pants escape his mouth. He gently removed her leg from his back and still held her in place. Her approach simmered into the dampness of her skin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His mouth sought out for hers again and his tongue pushed the taste of her to the roof of her teeth. He took her face in his hands gently and rubbed his thumb across her hot skin. She rested her palms on his chest and pressed downwards, feeling his firm flexed muscles, stopping at the base of his belt. The heat that radiated off his hardened cock signaled to further her movements, cupping the delicate area and pulling upwards to palm him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His groan was stretched out, escaping into her mouth for her to taste. He pulled back and slacked his jaw open, her eyes wide and hungry to watch him unfold beneath her light pressure. She danced her fingers upwards to loop around his belt but he stopped her with a kiss on her jaw.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t worry about me.” he murmured into the sharpness of her jaw.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I wanna make you feel good, Bucky, please…” she whined. </span>
  <em>
    <span>One last time. </span>
  </em>
  <span>The second half of the sentence laid on her tongue like a weight she couldn’t swallow.  She trailed off when he snaked his hand up to roll her breast in one arm, dropping the weight slowly to pinch her pebbled nipple. She tried to suppress her whines but she let it evaporate into the balmy air at his second grasp, mimicking the same action. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You do it every time, doll, this is for me too.” he pulled back just to watch her squirm against his touch. His mouth watered at the sight of the flushed pillowed flesh, prickled with attention.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He took her hand to place her in front of him, turning the corner to his room, all the while searching every plane of skin he could get his hands on. He stopped her at the edge and snaked a hand towards her belly, pushing further down to part her thighs, taking two fingers to plunge towards her clit. He rolled lazy circles around the bud while pulling her head back with his hand on her forehead, brushing back misplaced curls with his mouth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“‘M gonna miss this,” his honeyed voice dripped into her temple. “The way you feel, inside and out. The way you taste.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>How could he say it so casually, as if they were simply having a basic conversation, while she was tightening the suppressed coil that threatened to snap? She was convinced it was witchcraft that had a hold of the two of them, so intoxicated with every glass they shared of their taste and tangled limbs that left her with permanent vertigo. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His hand tried to pry off his jacket but she turned around, clit pulsating from the absent touch, helping him slip off his shoulders. Then went his tie, the buttons on his crisp shirt, his honey skin prickled with goosebumps. She kissed his collarbones and pinched two fingers around his nipple, earning a hiss, then placed butterfly kisses on his sternum. She was already working with his pants when he hiked a knee to have her sit at the edge of the bed, her eyes leveled with his hips. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was her turn to stare at him in worship, his irises blown out with carnal lust, engulfing the storm that sang behind hooded lips. Her mouth began to pool saliva at the sight of his bulging pants, leaning in closer when she pulled his pants and underwear down at the same time. He leaned his head back at the sensation of her panting hot breath against his throbbing cock, already swollen pink and dripping with precum, but she listened with great interest when she merely placed a long kiss on the tip of it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She crawled backwards, making sure to leave her legs slightly open so he can peek at her swollen fruit, still wet from her arousal and his saliva. He sank down further, kicking away his pants and shoes, grooving his way in between her thighs. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I want this to last as long you can take it,” he wished against her lips, pulling her bottom lip in between his teeth. “Can you take it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For Bucky? She would walk through hot coals bare naked, straight into lava, just to give him the satisfaction that he’ll lick her wounds clean. All she could muster was a slow nod, watching his cock bounce in his palm. He fisted himself, dragging the bead along his shaft, gulping at each pulled back motion of her knees to expose herself. They were both in a trance of their eroticism, dripping the candle wax between the two, wondering who was going to do what first.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bucky made the move to duck in between her breasts, pressing his tongue to drag up her sternum, tasting the salty mist of her skin he grew addicted to. He palmed his dick down to drag down her stomach, resting at her aching mound, latching a mouth on her budding nipple.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She jerked her chest up to keen under his lapping tongue, as well as raising her hips to drag her wetness across his cock. He pulled back to reach to the other side, his fingers back to her entrance. He sank two fingers in her, pooled enough wetness to coat him to the knuckles, slathering it on his shaft to continue to fist himself through his mouth working on her skin. She whimpered with her eyes shut, feeling tears mist in the corner from the sensation of his knuckles brushing against her clit in the most jagged way.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Bucky please…” she practically begged, tugging at his scalp again with hasty fingers. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Please what?” he teased, sliding his forearm under her head to prop her up closer. She rolled her hips into his, biting the inside of her cheek. He listened to her motions and rested his forehead on hers, seething as he sheathed into her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His entrance was slow and slurred like molasses, stretching out her aching core to wrap itself around his girth. Her eyes snapped open to focus on his closed ones, brows frowning at the sharp heat that split her until it slowly burned into that sweet injection of fire. He wallowed in her wet heat for a few moments, steadying his position inside of her. She lifted her chin to plant a kiss on his nose, then back down to his lips, gluing their mouths with hurried breaths.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bucky was drunk off of the tight grip she had around him, pelvis to pelvis, almost wishing that he could sheathe into her even further. She opened her mouth to gasp small, eager breaths into his, slowly becoming undone with her greatly sensitive core. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Buck, come </span>
  <em>
    <span>on</span>
  </em>
  <span>…” she drawled on when he thrusted </span>
  <em>
    <span>slowly </span>
  </em>
  <span>out of her to go right back in. He said nothing for he was focused on her heat, the way she enveloped him without any effort, how she was becoming crazed just from him being inside of her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steadily he thrusted in and out, picking up the back of her thighs to rest and wrap around the small of his waist. She latched on quickly and adjusted her hips to dip him further in, just to find that spot that will spread hot magma in her belly. He could feel that coil tighten in his core, his stomach flexing at the control of his own reaching climax, but his body had a mind of its own and a mission to fulfill.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He hadn’t noticed that his pace picked up and he began to piston thrust into her. The only indication was her frenzied combinations of gasps and mewls and the obscene sound of their skin slapping skin. His own undoing was stuck in his throat, choking back desperate moans at the sheer white hotness of the way she felt. It was pure fire, like gasoline in his veins and she held the match in between her teeth, threatening to drop it and unleash his carnal desire.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Bucky, look at me. Please.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His eyes peeled open with the sound of each syllable stretched out with pleasure, stumbling out of her mouth like a harsh secret. She searched for him through hooded lids and heavy lashes, brows frowning upwards with tears threatening to fall.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was all overwhelming, in every sense of the word and motion. From that angle and speed she was closer than any other time she was with him, however this time around it was laced with a longing that would become her friend in a matter of hours. Back to the beginning, back to when she knew a life before this scoundrel came and swept her off her feet with honeyed words and bright boyish eyes. Sure, she was chasing that sweet high that he could only grant her but she wanted to bask in it, just to clutch onto the foolish idea that maybe she could change his mind. She knew better than to make a man like James Barnes change his mind and that’s what killed her, to search his blown out blues and find that it was all a waste of time.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He gripped the sheets from underneath her head and took her hand into his other one, bringing it to his lips to drag the knuckles. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“W-what is it, I’m here, tell me doll, tell me…” He begged, taking her hand to rest on his cheek so he could lean into it. She combed the tips of her fingertips across his sideburns and rested them there, his skin hot and soft. His hand crept down to roll small and slow circles on her clit, feeling the way she clenched tighter on his pulsating member.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh Buck, I-I’m--” she stuttered out, rolling her eyes backwards from the sensation of her sensitivity, his fingers picking up its pace to pull her climax out of her. “I-I love </span>
  <em>
    <span>you-- </span>
  </em>
  <span>fuck-- I love-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He shushed her stumbling words with his mouth, pressing kisses all where he could reach. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Don’t make this harder than it has to be.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>He dragged his tongue along the column of her throat, latched on to her jawline, tasting each inch he knew he could have the possibility of never feeling again. The coil inside her snapped, white hot and focused in her jutting hips, but he kept going without faltering his pace.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He made no indication that he was close either, nor that he was going to stop, simply picking up her hips to rest her flat on the mattress. He removed his arm from underneath her and wrapped it around his waist, twirling her to sit up. He sat at the edge of the bed and guided her to sit back down in his lap, holding her by her upper ribs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I-I can’t,” she whined, ashamed to look at him in the face. He marveled in the ease of him going right back in, back to snapping upwards in a harsh staccato. He rested his head in between of her breasts, rubbing his cheeks into her sternum.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“One more, come on, </span>
  <em>
    <span>one more, </span>
  </em>
  <span>just for me baby, please,” he groaned sharply, his voice thick with held back arousal. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She listened to his command and threw her head back, the base of her neck held by his hand and his other swiping her clit once more. He knew exactly where to falter and where to piston, like a well oiled machine. That time around he let his jaw slack with loud groans, coughing up praises of how he loved the way she felt, so warm and wet, like he could give up the world just to stay in this debauched position for the rest of his life. His arrival was harder and hurried with a crack of the whip, his stomach snapping back and forth like a strained rubber band. He pumped inside of her as her blistering climax milked him dry.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The sounds of cars rolling past pavement and soft fuzz of the neighbor’s radio replaced the gulping noises of catched air. She crouched lower to rest her forehead on the inside of his neck, pulling him closer by wrapping her arms under his. He let go of her neck to rest both arms around her hips, slowly grinding away his remnants of his climax, peppering kisses in her damp hair.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They sat in each other’s embrace and his cock softened inside of her, however she was too afraid to slip out and possibly miss out on another second of not feeling him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“‘M gonna miss you,” she croaked into his neck, chuckling at the scratchiness of her voice. “Miss this too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” he breathed, staring out the window. “Me too, doll. More than you’ll ever know.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She doubted that. She knew for a fact that he couldn’t have loved her more than she did, insecure in the possibility that she was another one of his fun swings that he could take out on a lonely Friday night. How could he deny that protest though? When the love, especially the times where she wasn’t around, overwhelmed him and choked him back, addicted in the way her voice sounded sweeter than any note and her eyes held no remorse, absolutely no indication that he was a bad man but </span>
  <em>
    <span>the </span>
  </em>
  <span>man? He was good at sweet talking, words coated with sugary confection, but that wouldn’t suffice for a woman like her. He was a man of flesh of blood but he would mold himself into whatever she wanted him to be, just so he won’t lose out on the prickling shine of her embrace. He had no way to articulate that so he simply pulled her closer, kneading his fingers into her back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Open the gift when I’m gone,” he smirked when she groaned. “It’s something just for your eyes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It better not be a dirty gift James, or I’ll ship myself off just to deliver a sucker punch to you personally!” she exclaimed, giggling when he tickled her ribs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, no, I swear. Scout’s honor.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She hummed and pulled herself up. Her last words spoke through her fallen tears and clumped lashes and he tasted them with his mouth. He didn’t have the courage to look at her.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I love you.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Yeah? Me too.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>She couldn’t bring herself to open the gift immediately after he left. She surrounded herself with her friends who spoiled her with sundaes and tickets to her favorite rides at Coney Island, but he was everywhere. Her dress still smelled like him, her lips tasted like his, even down to the wilting flowers that she had placed in an ivory vase. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Summer had made its debut and the day was sweltering and disgustingly humid, so she had all the windows open so her flannel drapes could dance with every weak wind. She sat at the edge of her largest window to listen to the radio playing downstairs, something about Europe and something about casualties, however the corner of her eye caught that glimmering box collecting dust. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Enough was enough. She knew better than to wallow around for him when he promised he would write every week, that before he left he tucked a pile of folded pictures into his jacket and swore up and down he would boast about her to every single man he encountered. That couldn’t harbor that sinking ship for long. She reached out for the box and shook it close to her ear to get an idea.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It rattled loosely in the box, some areas heavier than others. She frowned at the noise, confused as to what it could be, taking her shaking fingers to prop it open. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Alocket laid in the middle of the box. The front portion had a pink rose protruding through it, the faded veins and leaves encircling the single flower. Its gold indicated its age but it still held that glorious shimmer. She weighed it in her hands and cursed Bucky for spending that kind of money on her. She opened it and gasped a laugh at his pictures, smug and proud, his eyes crinkled in the corners. The other side was him in his uniform, much more serious and dignified, yet held that youthful play in a small quip of his smirk. She held the necklace in between her fingers, twirling the oval locket to the back.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>For my girl:</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>You’re sweeter than any slice of mango.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Your Bucky.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>The radio died down, letting the noise of playing children pierce the summer air. The necklace laid perfectly on her chest but adjusted it to the other side when she rolled her hips to sit on top of the window frame. Her heart thumped with a slow venom of pain but she let the seething burn swallow her whole..</span>
</p><p>
  
  <em>
    <span>He’ll come back, </span>
  </em>
  <span>she lied to herself. </span>
  <em>
    <span>He always comes back.</span>
  </em>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I really tried to balance out the angst and happiness in this one but fuck is it hard! I also had a hard time with ~sexier~ parts of the piece because I'm not used to that kind of smut BUT WHATEVER</p><p>Thanks for reading y'all!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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